ORIG INAL PAPER Open Access

The Foul and the Fragrant in Urban Exploration:Unpacking the Olfactory System of Leisure

Kevin Peter Bingham1

Received: 26 February 2019 /Accepted: 28 March 2019/# The Author(s) 2019

AbstractThe world of leisure is a sensual reality, especially strong with the odours of what theFrench cultural historian Alain Corbin gave the name ‘the foul and the fragrant’, and theiremotional affects. Yet, when it comes to unpacking leisure in a critical way the signifi-cance and complexity of the olfactory system of institutions and norms is largelyoverlooked in leisure studies. What is more, although smell is something that shapesour leisure and which we all instinctively recognise it buckles under the pressure of leisurestudies obsession with the visual and the verbal. It is with this in mind that this paper,drawing on my own ethnographic research, offers a critical assessment of the ways inwhich the olfactory system emerges in a form of leisure known as urban exploration. Oneimportant way of defining urban exploration would be to say that its adherents have theneed for authentic leisure experience which is, for the most part, unmediated bydeodorisation. As well as being viewed as ‘deviant’, ‘abnormal’ or ‘heterotopic’ - andbecause of this - urban exploration takes advantage of the olfactory system as it is used tostimulate fears, pleasures and the broader imagination as a different ‘taste’ of life isexperienced. Following an introductory episode that draws the reader into the world of agroup of urban explorers that is oozing with the earthy smells of decay and the honey tangof piss, the first section of this paper employs the seminal work of Corbin to unpack howmodernity, which never ceases to evolve and transform, continues to have a powerfulinfluence on social space and the olfactory system. What emerges from this discussion,though, is the suggestion that it is the other side of modernity (the one that operates undera certain poetics of putrefaction) that is also the perfect breeding ground for inflaming boththe magical and painful feelings of nostalgia by exploiting this olfactory system. There-after, using Tony Blackshaw’s concept of themundane and spectacular, the paper goes onto expand this idea by arguing that ‘the foul and the fragrant’ play a crucial role in thecreation of heterotopic social space and its essential performativity.

International Journal of the Sociology of Leisurehttps://doi.org/10.1007/s41978-019-00045-z

* Kevin Peter BinghamK.P.Bingham@shu.ac.uk; kevin.peter.bingham@gmail.com

1 Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities, Department of Psychology, Sociology and Politics,Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK

Keywords Olfaction . Performativity.Heterotopic leisure . Poetics of putrefaction .Urbanexploration

1 Introduction

In this article, I am interested in exploring the idea that setting our focus on the sensescan be useful when it comes to unpacking and understanding ‘deviant’, ‘abnormal’ or‘heterotopic’ forms of leisure. However, my attention lies specifically with the olfactorysystem because, as Andrew Sparkes (2009) and John Hockey (2006) argue, this sensehas not been represented equally in the fields of ethnography and sport and exercisesciences. I would add that this same criticism can be extended to leisure studies,particularly where ethnographic work is concerned.

However, it is important to note from the offset that this article is not suggesting thatleisure scholars who employ ethnographies fail to explore and unpack how social spaceis produced, or that they do not examine how ‘radicalised’ and ‘deviant’ identities areestablished and reinforced through processes of spatialisation. In fact, some leisurescholars have used ethnographies to explore under-theorised relationships betweenspace and subcultures. For example, Lashua and Kelly (2008) have questioned howAboriginal young people represent everyday urban space through hip-hopperformances and practices. Likewise, Spracklen and Spracklen (2014) have raisedthe issue of how the subcultural authenticity of older, more established, post-punkGoths is being lost as space (specifically Whitby, the ‘home of Dracula’, which is nowmarketised as a ‘spooky town’) appears to evolve under the increasing visibility ofmainstream tourism. And, more recently, Swain et al. (2018) have explored the linksbetween the controversial leisure activity of khat-chewing and how users conceptualisespatial environments by creating a temporary and secretive sense of belongingness andcultural identity in liminal localities.

Yet, while the above-mentioned ethnographies capture the essence of themes such asrhythm, performativity and liminality vis-à-vis leisure space very well, what is con-spicuously absent are detailed connections to the social constructions of smell and howthey influence or impact upon the social production of space. In fact, with the exceptionof certain novelists and poets such as Marcel Proust, Charles Baudelaire and AldousHuxley, and scholars such as Wacquant (2006), who apply olfactory symbolism toproduce evocative atmospheres it might be argued that smell is the most undervalued ofall the senses in Western literature and academic writing (Classen et al. 1994). This isperhaps not surprising, though, given that since the so-called ‘postmodern’ turn manyof the key theorists we often turn to to make sense of present modernity, such asBaudrillard, Bauman and Lyotard, deal with media saturation, consumption and thevisual. In other words, it is manifest that visual representation dominates as the leadingform of perception in the twenty-first century (Low 2009; Howes 2005; Foucault 1970;Berger 1972). There is, as Richard Rorty (1979) argues, a certain charm about the eyeand a pervasive assumption exists in that we imagine it mirrors our nature and culture.

There is also the point that there is perhaps a certain degree of bias involved when itcomes to dealing with some of the senses. This point is emphasised by Jacques Derrida(1993) as he argues that Western tradition is shaped by sets of binaries where one isalways prioritised over the other. What this could mean is that the vocabulary used to

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describe what our sense of smell detects is considerably more limited than the volu-minous language employed to depict the visual (Synnott 1991). As Diane Ackermannotes, when we attempt to describe the features of an odour we tend to do itmetaphorically, using words ‘such as smoky, sulphurous, floral, fruity, sweet’, thatare used to describe other things: smoke, sulphur, flowers, fruit and sugar (1995: 7).Ackerman goes on to draw our attention to the fact that smells themselves are neverreally described; what is actually communicated when we smell something are ourfeelings and whether we find the scent ‘disgusting, intoxicating, sickening, pleasurable,delightful, pulse-revving, hypnotic or revolting’ (ibid: 7). Nevertheless, critics mightargue that what Ackerman overlooks is the basic point that words must be used todepict smells because there is no other way of describing them in detail – this is simplythe best way! The real issue when it comes to dealing with the olfactory system, then,can be found nestled in the work of Immanuel Kant.

According to Kant (1974) and many of his contemporaries, senses can be dividedinto lower and higher categories. Kant draws attention first to ‘lower’ subjective sensessuch as gustus (taste), tactus (touch) and olfactus (smell) where any associated plea-sures and displeasures merely register impressions and only perform or serve anyusefulness when objects are within close proximity. They are, in other words, viewedas being somewhat primitive and connected with savage-like behaviours (Classen et al.1994). ‘Higher’ senses on the other hand, tisus (sight) and auditus (hearing), areinterpreted by Kant as being the most objective and are therefore viewed as beingsuperior because they are empirical, function the farthest away from an object, and arewell-suited to the free play of the human imagination (Kant 1974). Rather than advancesuch claims any further, then, this article sets out to challenge the implied primacy ofthe olfactory system which appears, consciously or not, to have permeated the mindsetsof many leisure scholars.

While recognising the importance of those ostensible ‘higher’ senses to ethno-graphic enquiry in leisure studies, I want to note that serious limitations and taken-for-granted assumptions are likely to materialise if ‘lower’ senses such as theolfactory system go on being disregarded or overlooked. A consequence ofadopting an inequitable Kantian stance is that our understandings and interpreta-tions of leisure, particularly those that find themselves labelled as ‘deviant’, ‘ab-normal’ or ‘heterotopic’ where extant research is also often inadequate (Rojek2000), are at risk of being limited and misconceived. As Classen, Howes andSynnott argue, rather than being a simple psychological or biological phenomenon:

‘… smell is cultural, hence a social and historical phenomenon. Odours areinvested with cultural values and employed by societies as a means of and modelfor defining and interacting with the world. The intimate, emotionally chargednature of the olfactory experience ensures that such value-coded odours areinteriorized by the members of society in a deeply personal way. The study ofthe cultural history of smell is, therefore, in a very real sense, an investigation intothe essence of human culture’ (1994: 3).

Therefore, in a bid to acknowledge olfaction, and build on Classen, Howes andSynnott’s (ibid) suggestion that more should be done to bring odour into social andintellectual discourse in leisure studies, I aim to explore its significance vis-à-vis a

The Foul and the Fragrant in Urban Exploration: Unpacking the...

group of urban explorers.1 To approach this task, I first take into account the historicalinfluence of smell vis-à-vis the modern era and take note of how it continues to have animpact on social space in a contemporary leisure world. What this means is that I takeinto account Bauman’s (1993a) argument that it was perhaps modernity that broughtwith it a noticeable compulsive desire to eradicate foul smells by establishing desig-nated spaces of control. In Bauman’s words, ‘modernity declared war on smells. Scentshave no room in the shiny temple of perfect order modernity set out to erect’ (ibid: 24).

Next, I go on to expound an aspect of olfaction that seems to evade discussion in anyserious depth in the field of leisure studies; I draw out the importance of smell in theway it contributes to a collective task of interpretation between a group of urbanexplorers. What this means is that this interpretation accepts there are two levels toolfaction. Taking the scent of pigeon faeces as an example as it is part and parcel ofurban exploration, it can have two effects. Many people might make the straightforwardclaim, ‘I can smell shit’, as the musty fug of dried pigeon droppings invades their nasalcavities. Others, however, who are more in touch with abandonment and decay as a siteof leisure might say, ‘I can smell nostalgia’ or ‘I can smell fear’, as odour-evokedmemories and imaginings become emotionally potent. In other words, there is anotherlevel, one that comprises all of those all-too-familiar scents of the damp, mysteriouslyhomely aroma of abandonment, that bursts at the seams with fragrant romantic andquixotic sensibilities insofar as they conjure both the magical and the painful feelings ofnostalgia and fear (Blackshaw 2013).

However, before any discussion commences what follows first is a short episode thathas been drawn from my own ethnographic research that was conducted while com-pleting my doctoral studies. My study was centred around a group of urban explorerswho are known collectively as WildBoyz.2

2 The Siege: Breaching the Parapet

It was two minutes past midnight and we were speeding down the motorway towardsDover Ferry Terminus. The aim was to catch a late-night ferry over to France where wewould track down and explore an abandoned castle that was originally constructed inthe thirteenth century. With some ‘bangin’ tuneage’, plenty of beer and several boxes ofchicken nuggets, ‘the craic’ as we like to call it was ‘fuckin’ epic’ and the mood in thecar was especially jovial. The magic of the world of WildBoyz was back in full swingand, just as we manage to convince ourselves every other time we succeed in recreatingit, our sense of belonging and authenticity never felt more powerful.

Nonetheless, the greasy smell of chicken engulfed us, like an invisible fog thatseemed to mingle with the strong oniony tang of body odour, the eggy stench of farts,and the fruity aromas of cheap beer which, after being shaken too vigorously, wasfrothing from the tops of our cans. Husky added his own unique contribution to thestrange stench that was steadily forming inside the car. First of all, to borrow MKD’s

1 Urban explorers can be defined briefly as individuals who explore human-made structures and environmentsthat are generally abandoned or hidden from the public eye.2 WildBoyz are a group of ‘urbexers’ whose name was inspired, parodically, by the Duran Duran song WildBoys. ‘The Boyz’, as they exist today, are known as: Ford Mayhem, Meek-Kune-Do, Rizla Rider, TheHurricane, Box, Husky and Soul.

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description, ‘his feet fuckin’ stink’; if you asked any of ‘the Boyz’ to elaborate theywould tell you that they seem to produce an egregious, rotting, sort of pong. Second,since our last quick stop-off at services he’d decided to busy himself by unpacking his‘herbal remedy kit’. Translated, this means he’d ‘crack’d out’ his grinder to roll a freshspliff. This caused a ‘skunky’ sort of smell to mingle with the existing aromas.

Perhaps it was the weed, the smell of fried chicken that seemed sticky andirremovable, the build-up of bodily gases or the rankness of Husky’s boots, but itdidn’t take long until the smell inside the car gradually became more noticeable, tothe point that it started to affect our mood. To remedy the problem MKD decided toemploy the usual tactic of emptying a canister of Lynx into the mix. The sour tangof deodorant erupted from the can, forming a whiteish cloud that made it extremelydifficult to breathe. Once it settled a little, however, ‘the Boyz’ seemed satisfied thatthe problem was resolved. As the scent settled into something that was neither quitepleasant or unpleasant, only strangely familiar, ‘the craic’ quickly sprang back tolife. It was enough to convince ‘the Boyz’ that the air was purified and fresher.Feeling his mood lift, MKD yelled, ‘Yes, boys. That’s betta’, like. It still fuckin’stinks, but it smells cleana’ in here. Like in the gym. Ya know, like the changin’room. Sort of a little bit sweaty but sort-a cleana’ as well.’ For a while, ‘the Boyz’seemed to agree with him. Nevertheless, getting out of the car while waiting toboard the ferry meant that the foul smells seemed to reignite when we all climbedback in, and this forced us to repeat the deodorising process all over again.

The overall fragrance of our adventure didn’t improve much the next day. Afterdriving for a further seven uncomfortably sweaty hours, with very little time set asidefor stopping, we finally reached the castle but quickly discovered we had to crossseveral muddy fields and a moat to access it. In terms of the smell, the fields weren’t sobad. A little earthy, tinged ever so slightly with the scent of ageing fertiliser. However,while we were standing beside the moat, staring at the castle across the cold, olive-coloured, water, ‘the Boyz’ started to doubt whether we should bother to explore it ornot. A large dead fish lurked just beneath the surface to the right of us and a mephitic,sulphuric sort of smell, emanated from the water. For a while, nominating who shouldswim across first caused an intense debate, until Mayhem finally stepped up andannounced he was going to do it:

Mayhem: [Stripping his clothes off]. How much do you like urbex?Husky: Not this much.[Laughter].Mayhem: Fuck sake. I’m down to me shreddies.Husky: We’ve come this far, we av’ to do it.Me: I don’t see you takin’ yer kegs off.MKD: Yeah man. I’ll do it, just not goin’ first.Mayhem: I am, man. I’m gettin’ fuckin’ nake’d ‘ere.Husky: Actually, man, I think you’re gonna’ catch the fuckin’ plague.MKD: That Black Death shit?Husky: Yeah, dude. That was about when this castle was built.Mayhem: Don’t tell me that, man. That’s bullshit. Right?Soul: Be good for the immune system, mate.

The Foul and the Fragrant in Urban Exploration: Unpacking the...

[Several moments later…].Mayhem: Awww, man. Noo. Nooo. Fuck. Fuck. Here it goes. Shit, boys! What ifI catch the bloody plague? [He begins to wade into the water].[Laugher]MKD: Oh, he’s doin’ it! Fuckin’ hell, like.[Laughter].Mayhem: Oh my god. It’s so cold… [Wades in further until he’s beyond ‘ballsdeep’].Soul: Yes, fam!Mayhem. Okay, fuck this! The smell is getting worse. I’m fuckin’ bailin’! Any ofyous bring any deodorant with yers?Everyone: [General mumbling]. No.Mayhem: Cunts.

An hour or so later, following two more failed attempts by Soul and Husky to swimacross the moat, we had almost resigned to the fact that we had been defeated.However, as we ambled back towards our camping spot we happened to stumbleacross a couple of boats and a single paddle lying near a lake that we hadn’t noticedearlier. So, in true spirit of urban exploration and being ‘deviant’, we decided to borrowone of them and, therefore, soon found ourselves paddling frantically across thestagnant water of the moat.

By now the sun had set, so plunged in darkness we could no longer peer into the filthbelow us. This meant that now it was purely the occasional showers of polluted waterfrom my erratic paddling, and the oozing stench of decay rising from the moat itself,that kept our fear of falling in alive. Despite the fetidity and chaos, though, there wassomething incredibly exciting and familiar about the whole experience. Even with largeoverarching willow branches snagging at our clothing, and the threat that they mightcapsize us as they caused the unsteady boat to list violently several times, the greatcastle still teased us on. Before long we could smell it! It was luring us in with an all-too-familiar scent – the damp, mysteriously homely aroma of abandonment. ‘Do yousmell that? There it is! Fuckin’ beast’, yelled Mayhem. Suddenly, Husky, Mayhem andSoul launched into an excited discussion together about decay. Just ahead we could seethe crumbling stonework of the castle. It was fucking enormous and, knowing we wereabout to crash the boat against a set of dilapidated stairs, we were alive with excitement.

The warm scent of decaying stonework and rotting vegetation greeted us as weentered the castle. We’d all managed to clamber out of the boat unscathed and nowfound ourselves in a large room - presumably the former great hall - which wasoverflowing with large trees and bushes. After gazing at the magnificently curioussight all around us for a while and taking a few snaps, we made our way excitedlytowards a dark corridor directly ahead of us. The thrill and sense that somethingspectacular was all around us was now immediate. Animated and craving more, wecracked on, stopping only to savour the strong aromas of the rotten wooden beams thathad collapsed from the ceiling directly above us. Our eyes widened as the beautifulsmell stirred in our nostrils. The steps we’d followed inside the tower to our rightgradually became more deteriorated the further up we went, until finally we reached agaping hole at the very top of the tower. In that moment, looking out towards a parallelturret that was brightly lit by thousands of bright stars as the wind reignited the

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powerful smells of dust and rotting vegetation from the keep below, the experience feltineffable. As Soul tried to put it, the moment presented ‘something that’s beyondfucking incredible, especially with its raw smell that’s totally unconditioned.’

After ‘mooching’ around the castle we withdrew to our camping spot, an abandonedfarmhouse set on the border of the large grounds. We’d parked up here initially and,having smelt the all-too-familiar scent of staleness and decay oozing from its orifices,we’d decided it would be a good place to set up camp. Now, entering the building feltlike returning somewhere homely. We’d set up our camp-beds and hammocks earlierand now the damp smell of the stonework mixed perfectly with the beefy aroma of ourcooking. The immediate plan was to get a roaring fire going in the crumbling fireplaceand crack a few bevvies open. It didn’t take long to start the fire, and for the heavy,intoxicating smell of smoke to swirl lazily throughout the building. It wasn’t long eitherbefore a bottle of blended whisky emerged from one of the rucksacks. Once it wasopened, the slightly sweet oaky smell of the whisky mixed pleasantly with the pricklyscent of dust that was ingrained in the farmhouse. The fire continued to crack and burstfor the rest of the evening, constantly refuelling the beautiful, homely aromas of thebuilding for the next few hours.

The journey home was a lot less spectacular than the previous day had been. It beganwith an early four o’clock rise inside the farmhouse that had lost its warm sense ofhomeliness and transformed into something cold and dirty. The building now emitted asour smell of stale piss that seemed to mix unpleasantly with the livelier tangy odour ofhuman grease. We then travelled an uncomfortable seven hours to reach the middayferry home. As Mayhem put it, ‘we were wreck’d’, and only just made it on time. Bythe time Mayhem stopped the car sharply on the ferry deck, narrowly missing thefreshly waxed bumper of a silver Merc in front, we couldn’t wait to get out and stretchour legs. One by one we clambered out of Mayhem’s soiled car, emerging onto a largeinternal deck that smelt wonderful. Intriguingly, the intoxicating scent of petrol instant-ly reinvigorated our mood and ‘the craic’ suddenly seemed to spring back to life for amoment as we made our way towards a staircase that would take us upstairs.

Up on the main passenger deck, surrounded by the strong, satisfyingly rich smells ofcoffee and thick gravy, we found ourselves a table and collapsed onto the chairs aroundit. We were ‘absolutely fuck’d’ and, wanting everyone around us to know it, we put onan exaggerated performance. There was something cool, or ‘badass’ to borrow Husky’sway of describing it, about walking through the ship and trailing the smells of decayand abandonment through the throng of clean, everyday people. Husky sat with hismud-caked boots up on one of the chairs opposite him, and Soul dropped his filthycamera bag onto the white table top. He sat, sprawled across a chair in his sweat-stainedt-shirt, with both arms hanging limply over its sides. Mayhem ‘cabbaged out’ across acushioned bench, coating it in grey dust that fell from his crusty jacket and trousers, andMKD began cleaning one of his mud-caked boots against a chair leg.

However, there was only so long we could convince ourselves our performance was‘cool’. As the journey continued, it didn’t take long for us to notice that otherpassengers were avoiding us, giving us a wide berth as the tables closest to us remainedunoccupied despite the ferry being busy. We could feel eyes watching us, formingviews and opinions about the dishevelled, abhorrent, appearance of our collective. Asense of anxiety started to grow. The fact that we fucking stank was starting to botherus. It was Soul, though, who finally put an end to our performance when he decided to

The Foul and the Fragrant in Urban Exploration: Unpacking the...

complain that our boots all reeked of ‘cow shit’, and that the smell was ‘pretty intense’.With that knowledge firmly lodged in our minds, Mayhem, MKD and myself decidedto find the nearest toilet to clean ourselves up a little and, according to Mayhem, lookmore ‘socially acceptable, like propa’ consumers again.’ As MKD put it, describingreasonably well how we were all feeling at the time, ‘I feel really outta place, like.People’ll think we homeless or some fuckin’ scummy dole munchas.’

3 ‘The Olfactory Revolution’

The modern human relationship with odour is long and complex and it comprisesmany confusing myths, taboos and, above all, a deeply rooted fear of the invisible.With this in mind, although he centres his attention on the perception of odour inFrance from the 1700s to the ‘Pasteurian Revolution’ of the late 1900s, AlainCorbin is perhaps the best chronicler of the history of olfaction as his seminalbook, The Foul and the Fragrant, traces the course of our tempestuous relationshipwith odour and it draws out three significant modes of behaviour. The followingsection of this paper unpacks these behaviours vis-à-vis our current stage ofmodernity and a small group of urban explorers to reveal more about the ephemeraland contradictory world we presently find ourselves in (Bauman 2000). As thereader will observe, what is uncovered is that our attitudes towards odour, and thestrategies we adopt to eliminate bad smells and incite pleasurable ones, remain asparadoxical as ever. In other words, there are echoes here of Foucault’s (1970) claimthat the concept of the rational individual – who is capable of rejecting differenceand inaugurating a universal identity – is false, and likely only to cause us to take astep backwards in our interpretations of contemporary society.

3.1 Purification and Deodorization

To begin, it is important to consider Bauman’s (1993a) suggestion that modernity,particularly in its early stages of advancement and among the elite, brought with ita frantic urge to purify the surrounding air. Such thinking carries a theologicalbasis as religion has functioned as a coping strategy that has allowed individualsto distance themselves from the suffering of the world through purificationstrategies for thousands of years (Martin and Triplett 2013). However, whilecivilization has progressed and the need for religion grown weaker a broader analeroticism for the need for purity, in the form of order and cleanliness, has evolved(Freud 1994). With this in mind, the aim in the preliminary stages of modernity, asCorbin (1986) points out, was to disguise everything unnatural and all accumula-tions of foreign particles; focus at a surface-level was set on the rejection ofeverything lecherous, dirty and corrupt in order to produce a purer, tidier world.Yet, irrespective of the ceaseless desire to cleanse the air, even today, the artifi-ciality and unfeasibility of such a project in modernity is conspicuous, once werealise that any modern project that endeavours to create something pure willalways be undermined by a stench that remains stubbornly unregulated andbeyond our control (Bauman 1989). Seemingly aware of this, it is interesting thenthat ‘the Boyz’ tactics to battle contaminated air have not evolved far beyond

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those surface-level strategies that were originally employed across the seventeenthand eighteenth centuries.

Analogous to individuals in the late 1700s, ‘the Boyz’ solution to the fiercestench contaminating the car was to make it disappear temporarily by masking itwith a stronger fragrance: the vulgar and, in their opinion, ostensibly freshchanging-room tang of Lynx. The overall effectiveness of this effort to eliminatethe foul smell of five males is moot. On the one level, ‘the Boyz’ managed toconvince themselves that the powerfully sharp, zingy, notes of deodorant to someextent purified the environment. On the other, the Lynx merely amalgamated withthe dirtily-sweet sweaty odour that seemed to cling to everyone and everything inthe car. In any event, the new fragrance seemed to have the desired, albeit short-lived, effect of producing an agreeable smell and this completely transformed themood to something that felt more cheerful and positive. What this reinforces, asCorbin (1986) points out, is that not only is the sense of smell an emotionallycharged one, it is also something that is a possible source of immediate gratifica-tion and therefore powerful obsession, even if it is only temporarily. It might beargued, then, that olfaction immediately exposes one of the key features of ourpresent condition of modernity, that surface-level strategies for tackling odours areconvenient not so much for belief in purification purposes anymore but for the‘quick-fix’ solution they offer that is more in tune with the immediacy andswiftness of present modernity.

As Bauman (2000) points out, speed has become the most useful asset inpresent modernity (a period defined by instantaneity, addiction, ambition, impa-tience and consumption) as most sources of gratification, not least because theyare ephemeral, must be achieved within the shortest duration of time. In view ofthis, it seems that when it comes to combatting olfactic corruption in the atmo-sphere and restoring the elasticity of the air, the theory that strong aromatics willrapidly and effectively mask a foetid stench prevails. However, unlike attitudes ofthe past, which were guided by the pseudo-scientific advice that aromatics pro-vided protection from the smells of excrement and decay (Corbin 1986), thecontemporary opinion is supported by what Paul Virilio (1977 [2006]) has labelledthe ‘dromocratic revolution’.3 Notwithstanding the fact that he disagrees with theMarxist idea that modernity is a result of economic transformation in favour ofmilitary influence, Virilio is effective in outlining how our reliance on feudal-erafortifications has transformed into a war of movement that has dramatically alteredthe pace of life in present modernity. The ‘dromocratic revolution’, then, goessome way towards reflecting our accelerated way of life and encourages us tothink about the ‘quick-fix’ social, psychological and cultural impact it has had onour leisure worlds.

In terms of leisure, the acceleration of life has made more opportunities and choicesavailable but, as we witnessed with ‘the Boyz’ in their effort to control their own odour,it also means that our experiences and ways of thinking are becoming increasinglynumbed, mechanised and empty (Rojek 1995). However, to avoid sounding altogethernihilistic, it is important to recall the later work of Georg Simmel which encourages us

3 The term dromology, which derives from the Latin word dromos (race), is a term coined by Paul Virilio toexplain the importance of speed and acceleration in present-day societies.

The Foul and the Fragrant in Urban Exploration: Unpacking the...

to take note that what has been suggested so far only reflects one side of the coin.According to Simmel (2014 [1890]), modernity is best understood as something thatcauses a ‘twin sickness’. On the one hand, modernity fosters anaesthesia by steeringpeople into a ‘quick-fix’ state that induces the loss of awareness and sensation, but it isincapable of causing amnesia or paralysis because sensory experiences are still some-thing we continue to desire in our leisure (ibid). As Simmel points out, in actual fact itis an overstimulation of sensory experiences in modernity that often causes people tocrave the ‘sensuously rare, peculiar and delicate to expand the scope of sensibility’(2014 [1890]: 4). What this means is that beyond the effects of anaesthesia we shouldnot overlook, especially among urban explorers, that there can be overwhelmingimpulses that compel us to seek out certain sensations, including odours because thereare some that trigger hyperaesthesia (an excessive sensitivity). More on this point willbe discussed in the latter part of this paper.

3.2 Disinfection

The second important issue to consider is modernity’s progressive drive to target anddisinfect sources of foul odour, as opposed to merely masking them (Corbin 1986). Ifwe reflect on our human relationship with odour once again it is apparent, especiallyduring the 1940s when the Beveridge Plan emerged, that hygiene and health suddenlybecame an important concern across Europe (Foucault 2004). What is crucial, though,as ‘the Boyz’ reveal in the short episode above is that our obsession for the modern lifestrategy of being hygiene-conscious still seems to thrive in the twenty-first century.However, as I will go on to explicate, a paradox transpires when we begin to reflect onthis idea, a paradox which reveals more about the fluid type of world and society inwhich people seek out different and increasingly unique forms of leisure.

For each of ‘the Boyz’, life should be a healthy one. Hygiene, described mostappositely by Bauman as being ‘the modern technology of keeping disease at bay’(1992: 155), appears to be at the forefront of their imaginations, and it is often anunpleasant odour that keeps it firmly rooted in their minds. As they demonstrated whilecontemplating whether they should swim across the castle’s moat that was oozing withthe stench of staleness and decomposition, bodily contact seemed both dangerous andunpleasant. Husky reinforced this point further when he revealed his uneasiness aboutthe plague apparently existing throughout the medieval period, and his fear that thewater might somehow still be infectious. In the minds of ‘the Boyz’ a dark abyss layahead and contained within it was the stench of disease and the unknown. It is likely,then, that their initial plan was set to fail from the very beginning, despite Mayhem’sbest efforts and going ‘balls-deep’ in the cold filth.

Like most people, ‘the Boyz’ have lived in a world where mortality has beendeconstructed and dirty operations such as waste disposal, cemeteries and sewageworks have become isolated spaces set apart from the rest of society behind their highwalls, gates and palisade fences (Foucault 2003; Corbin 1986). This of course connectswell with Norbert Elias’ (1994) concept of the ‘civilising process’, which suggests thatmodernity, in its solid and formative stage, has become more cautious and focused onimproving standards and etiquette which entails the prevention of undesirable ordestructive behaviours. As Elias suggests, people have been pushed in a direction thatcauses them to feel such things as revulsion, ignominy and remorse if they witness or

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feel over-expressive emotions (particularly certain smells) that have been deemedinappropriate outside certain controlled environments. What this means is that signsand causes of mortality are challenged by our continued efforts to avoid or overcomethem and they instil a certain degree of paranoia (Bauman 1992). To single one of ‘theBoyz’ out specifically, Mayhem revealed this behaviour and mindset two days after ourtrip when he reported to the rest of the group his concern about a rash that had formedacross his legs and back. He was absolutely convinced he had contracted it from themoat. By his reasoning: ‘[it] was dirty as fuck and smelled like absolute shit, guys. It’sthe only thing I can think that cud av’ caused it… Jesus christ, that smell, man. Therewas a dead fish in it for fuck’s sake!’

Nonetheless, and notwithstanding the significance of the argument above, a paradoxemerges in the sense that odour also has a contrasting behavioural influence on ‘theBoyz’. Essentially, what I have in mind here is Blackshaw’s (2017a) point that one ofthe major accomplishments of present modernity has been its ability to transform lifefrom being exclusively regimented and sanitary into something that also allowsindividuals to forgo their fears and anxieties in the hope that dreams and hopes canbe lived out. In this sense, the other side to olfaction is that beyond the seeminglyresistant layers of the foul and foetid there can be something magical about it, insofar asour choices of leisure, such as urban exploration, often encompass it as part of theoverall enchantment. Implicit to this understanding is Bauman’s sociology because itteaches us that we are no longer dealing with ‘solid’ modernity. As Bauman (2007a)outlines, we are dealing with something more fluid, and with individualised consumerswho are not so much concerned about finding an essential identity or experience as theyare about experimenting with the task of inventing and reinventing them.

As revealed in the episode above, ‘the Boyz’ successfully manage to push aside theirconcern for disease, disorder and chaos when an opportunity to perform is found. Aftercrossing the malodourous pool of water, ‘the Boyz’ truly stepped into their leisureworld where they each share a sense of mutual passion, purpose and pleasure. Theyclambered out of the boat onto the broken stone steps of a crumbling castle where theywere welcomed by the all-too-familiar steady hum of decay. A resoundingly unpleas-ant, yet strangely nostalgic, humid odour subtly tinged with the scent of rottingvegetation immediately struck their nostrils. All of a sudden, ‘the Boyz’ were backwhere they belonged, as dedicated and resilient wanderers of wasteland and abandon-ment. As Mayhem pointed out a few days after we had returned home, which, lookingat the faces of the others at the time, seemed to confirm what they were all thinking:‘No-one else I know is like us, man. Like, seeking out history like this and somehowhackin’ the smell of crap… It’s strange how the smell of shit can lure us, like, and welike it. What the fuck!’

It is the experience of performativity, then, that is key to understanding ‘the Boyz’enigmatic relationship with foul and foetid odours. Through the medium of urbanexploration, ‘the Boyz’ use strange, unfamiliar, smells that seem foreign and dangerousin a highly-marketised world to re-enact the performativity of our collective interpre-tation of ‘deviance’ (Blackshaw and Crabbe 2004). While they assume that Othersgenerally avoid the moudly scents of filth and the pungent mustiness of abandonedsites, ‘the Boyz’ create their own inimitable space around these smells, insofar as thereis some degree of pride and gratification associated with being linked to them. From aHusserlian perspective, it could be suggested that ‘the Boyz’ effectively perform, pre-

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reflectively, what is known as an ‘exclusive disjunction’ (Husserl 1973: 57), meaningthey notice not the fetidity of stagnant disease-filled rot, only the sign that there is asmell of ‘urbex’ and ‘the Boyz’ in the air. According to Husserlian doctrine, only one orthe other can be perceived, never both together. Therefore, following Husserl’s treat-ment of reason, it could be argued that a bad smell is not necessarily bad de facto inpresent modernity. Rather, in line with the idea of ‘transcendental subjectivity’ it can beargued that we assign every object, or in this instance smell, determinate attributes(temporarily at least) which cancel out all others (Merleau-Ponty 1989), including allconcern with danger, disease and mortality.

Yet, irrespective of anyone’s skill in their writing, or their verbal facility, when itcomes to describing or explaining any olfactory system of leisure what ‘the Boyz’create for themselves represents a radically different existential possibility that cannotquite be grasped by any outsider. Following what Ackerman (1995) has suggested,despite our remarkable ability to connect certain smells with events and other people itis impossible to describe them accurately to anyone who has not smelled them orexperienced them in precisely the same way as a group such as ‘the Boyz’. In onesense, this is the beauty of leisure worlds and shared performative identities. However,what is also crucial, as Ackerman (1995) points out, is that out of context scents likethose rotting and musty odours that go together with ‘the Boyz’ unique social space canbecome a source of embarrassment because back in the space of everyday reality theyproduce starkly different connotations.

3.3 Secretions of Poverty

Following the last point, a third paradoxical theme remains to be discussed and it isanother Corbin raises in his book – the anxiety surrounding ‘secretions of poverty’(1986: 142). Since the rise of the bourgeoisie, which brought with it the need to projectonto the poverty-stricken everything that ought to be repressed (including bad odours),it has become the general masses who keep alive the smells of degeneracy, animalismand moral stigmatisation (Tuzin 2006; Classen et al. 1994; Largey and Watson 1972).The unpleasant stench of an-Other more miserable life strikes fear into the minds of themasses and the risk of contagion makes us squirm uncomfortably (Corbin 1986). AsBauman (1998) reminds us, alongside certain ethnic and minority groups, vagrants andthe dispossessed are quintessential examples of the ‘abnormal’, ‘strange’ and ‘out-of-place’; they are individuals of suffering and disenchantment who are fated to show therest of society what happens if we become ‘flawed’ consumers. In short, it is not asGeorge Orwell famously put it that ‘the lower classes smell’ (1962: 127–128), thepoint, as Bauman (1998) explicates, is that it has now become possible to fall beneaththe so-called ranks of the classes where odours are even more repulsive. However, itseems the performative identity ‘the Boyz’ seek is, in essence, at loggerheads with thetype of modernity we find ourselves in.

On the one level, the repulsive odour of the stricken, the dirty rags their bodies areclad in, and their apparent failure to notice the inconvenience of the miasma is areminder to ‘the Boyz’ that we can easily become one of those odourous individualsand, therefore, be excluded from the common appearance of order. As MKD demon-strated on the ferry, he was suddenly very conscious of our ragged clothing and thesmells oozing from us. He was right too, there was a nauseating odour clinging to us

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all; the overpowering, greasy, tang of sweat caught in our tangled facial hair, the whiffof stale body odour when any of us shifted position, and the bitter-sweet sting of ourunclean breath when we spoke. As MKD put it, ‘I feel really outta place, like. People’llthink we homeless or some fuckin’ scummy dole munchas’, like.’ There was no doubtabout it, we were raising a few eyebrows, and while most of the tables around us werefull, the three closest to us remained empty for the duration of our crossing. The anxietyamong ‘the Boyz’ gradually became more noticeable and seemed to reach its heightwhen Soul decided to point out that our mud-caked footwear absolutely stank of ‘cowshit’. After that, a couple of ‘the Boyz’, including myself, went to the nearest toilet toclean up a little – at this point we really wanted to blend back in with the otherconsumers on board the ferry. As MKD revealed on the final leg of our journey up theA1(M), ‘stinkin’ of fuckin’ shit really puts me off cummin’ on these trips. Pisses meright off, man…’.

Whether we like it or not, present modernity engages us all as consumers wherecertain fragrances rank higher than others (Classen et al. 1994). What this means is thatto be part of the social norm, to be assured of our membership, ‘the Boyz’ need torespond ‘promptly and efficiently to the temptations of the consumer market; [we] needto contribute to the supply-clearing demand and in case of economic trouble be part ofthe consumer-led recovery’ (Bauman 2005: 112). It is vital, therefore, that ‘the Boyz’engage in ‘active somatic surveillance’ to identify which odours convey good socialimpressions and isolate those that violate the moral and aesthetic ‘rituals’ of everydayconsumer life (Waskul and Vannini 2008). None of this is possible, though, if we fallvictim to what Günther Anders refers to as ‘Promethean shame’; the shame of notfulfilling our duty to be reflexive and aesthetically olfactic and, on the whole, moreeffective consumers (Müller and Anders 2016). As Bauman puts it:

Members of the society of consumers are themselves consumer commodities, andit is the quality of being a consumer commodity that makes them bona fidemembers of that society. Becoming and remaining a sellable commodity is themost potent motive of consumer concerns, even if it is usually latent and seldomconscious, let alone explicitly declared (Bauman 2007b: 57).

In the episode above, ‘the Boyz’ no longer felt the warm homeliness of being aconsumer. Instead, there was a sense of homelessness in the atmosphere, and theanxiety and apprehension that comes with realising how easy it is to stumble acrossthe boundary that separates the dreams and desires of the ‘tourist’ mindset from that ofthe corrupt, underprivileged, ‘vagabond’ (Davis 2008).

On the other hand, as it was touched upon earlier in the article, irrespective ofconsumerist aestheticism ‘the Boyz’ have found something dirty and foul they want toconsume. What this means is that there is still something about those dank spaces, thosespaces which exude foul odours and arouse peculiar feelings inside us, that makes uswant to seek them out. At this stage in the article, then, it would be more appropriate torefer to the type of leisure we are dealing with here, which encompasses all of theenigmatic performative behaviour that was mentioned previously, as ‘heterotopicleisure’ (Blackshaw 2017a). This draws on the work of Michel Foucault (1984) whichintroduces us to the idea of heterotopias of deviance; those spaces of ‘compensation’that permit people to imaginatively discover their own unique place in reality. As

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Blackshaw notes, underneath the smooth surface of everyday life heterotopias providea temporary ‘feast for anyone hungry for otherness’ (2017b: 7). They represent anuncanny desire for a different sort of knowledge and a special sense of freedom andperformativity that cannot be obtained in the same way anywhere else. In other words,the heterotopia ‘the Boyz’ create for themselves comprises an alternative, what wemight call compensatory, type of cognitive, aesthetic and moral space where differentlife strategies and ways of interpreting the world are employed (Bauman 1993b).

What this reinforces is that in present modernity there is more to heterotopic (and‘deviant’ and ‘abnormal’) forms of leisure than commonsensical understandings ofdeviancy would have us believe, because they provide people, specifically con-sumers, with opportunities to safely transgress the border between the permissibleand what is, ostensibly, forbidden (Blackshaw 2017a). For Rojek (2000), this sort ofleisure transforms people into self-proclaimed connoisseurs of thrills, ‘deviance’ andthe offensive, especially of the olfactory kind when it comes to urban exploration.Looking forward to the smell of decay, as Mayhem and Husky discussed in the boatwith eagerness, and to arrive back in society stinking of corruption and putrefaction,and initially feeling proud of it, is to feel inimitable and cool. Nonetheless, this is, onthe face of it, a special coolness that is at odds with the idea of commercialisedcoolness we find in contemporary culture. As Pountain and Robins (2000) point out,the ‘coolest’ have always had a habit of trying to distinguish themselves as such bydeclaring themselves as pioneers of new trends. However, it could be suggested thatby striving to become dirty, malodourous, vagabonds, ‘the Boyz’ in fact try tobecome more ‘cool’ than ‘cool’ by becoming ‘uncool’, because while everyone hasaccess to it the idea of ‘cool’ cannot help but be empty (Heath and Potter 2006). AsBlackshaw puts it, ‘it is the vicarious sense of having done something bad that feelsrather cool that matters’ (2017b: 6), and, as ‘the Boyz’ have discovered, it is withinheterotopia where this becomes possible, for a while.

To rein back in on the olfactory system, as far as ‘the Boyz’ are concerned theirheterotopia is a place of expression, identity and freedom that is created, in part, bymingling closely with the foul and the foetid. In other words, this is where the secondlevel of olfaction comes into play, where the foulness of pigeon shit and the fetidity ofdecay are transformed by a certain poetics of putrefaction that incites powerful feelingsof nostalgia and fear. What this means is that when it comes to ‘the Boyz’ heterotopicsocial space bad smells – bad in the everyday sense at least – remind them not only oftheir inimitability and ‘coolness’ but also the magnificent sense of purpose, pleasureand passion they have felt as a result of it. In ‘the Boyz’ heterotopia the smell ofsomething putrid in the air is a sign that a different ‘taste’ of life is being experiencedand, more often than not, they promise themselves that they will endeavour to smelltheir way into such experiences again. With this in mind, the final section of this articlegoes on to unpack the second level of olfaction a little further.

4 Poetics of Putrefaction: The Smell of Nostalgia, Fear and Melancholy

According to Ackerman (1995), although the olfactory system has traditionally beenused to detect danger and stimulate healing or aphrodisiac qualities, it has becomerecognisable as the sense that is less intimate and intense than all other senses and,

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therefore, less important. In ‘liquid’ modernity it is, as Bauman (1993a) reminds us,nothing more than something that should be managed. Yet, if one thing has beenoverlooked, as it has been brought to light throughout this paper, it is that there is asecond level to olfaction in that poignant smells act like powerful cataracts to stimulateemotions and former memories that link directly to the performativity of heterotopicsocial spaces (Bonnett 2016). In other words, when it comes to leisure it can be arguedthat smells are important because our memory is able to transform those all-too-familiarscents into a ‘collective task of interpretation which is… ineradicably yoked by aromantic sensibility that evokes feelings of nostalgia’ (Blackshaw 2013: 75; Waskuland Vannini 2008; Stoller 1997).

Drawing on Tony Blackshaw’s (2003) concept of the mundane and the spec-tacular, the following section of this article attempts to unpack the nostalgicsignificance of the olfactory system vis-à-vis ‘the Boyz’ heterotopic social spacethat has been formed through the medium of urban exploration. At this stage, then,it should be noted that the mundane and spectacular aspects of heterotopiacomprise much more than the olfactory sense, but what is being developed hereis a more lucid understanding of how smells contribute to the creation of leisureworlds that function as temporary performative refuges.4

4.1 The Mundane

As Blackshaw (2003) explicates, the mundane is centred around the ‘great truths’ of‘the Boyz’ heterotopic world; therefore, alongside a particular ritualised routine it is thesmells of what they imagine as being commonplace and mundane that are also relived.As the heterotopia typically begins, then, ‘the Boyz’ scramble into a well-used car,which is usually Mayhem’s. It is imbued with a strange yet communally satisfyingodour. A fresh, sweet-smelling, almost earthy scent that is instantly pleasant to theimagination, mixed with the stale, skunk-like, sour stench of old marijuana, harshmusky sweat aromas engrained in the fabric of the car seats and whatever chemical-enriched air freshener is dangling from the mirror. If ever there was a person whowanted to imagine the odour of one large sweat gland this would probably be it. Onceinside the car, the mundane circumstances continue as the journey to an abandonedbuilding, drain or some other explore begins. Husky will open his grinder to roll a freshspliff, revitalising the strong conspicuous smell of burning hemp rope. This odourmixes with the slightly dusty smell of rich overripe fruit as cans of beer and cider arecracked open in the back of the car. The wonderful sense-drenching odour of the car islikely to sound foul to any outsider, yet for ‘the Boyz’ it is a sign that the mysticalaromas of the heterotopia have sprung to life.

The mundanity of the olfactory system does not end there either, it continues as theexploring truly gets underway. Before ‘the Boyz’ even enter an abandoned site, acertain craved-for odour can be detected. It is difficult to describe, but Soul hassuggested it is ‘a woody aroma, tinged with that amazing plastery dust smell. Likedecaying concrete...’ For MKD, ‘it’s a smell a bit like when you turn a heata’ on fur thefirst time, just without any heat, but nice. It’s nicer, like a smell of a familiar place cos

4 For further reading, Tony Blackshaw’s book Leisure Life deals with his concept of the mundane andspectacular in greater depth.

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it’s always the same.’ Mayhem often describes it as being ‘a dusty toned-downequivalent of rosemary, or camphor… but without much sweetness or spice. Like, like,delicious mothballs, maybe?’ Nonetheless, according to ‘the Boyz’ if any of them havecaptured the mundane olfactory essence of their heterotopic world it is Husky and hisdescription of it being ‘familia’. Like, a cumfurtable warm damp-nss. Like, rank andpropa’ fuckin’ stale. Probably disgusting, but as if these places are also oozing thisamazin’, like really satisfying sort of damp brick, an earthy kind of smell that you wantto chew.’ As the reader might agree, then, out of all ‘the Boyz’ it is perhaps Husky whoreally captures the strange oxymoronic mundanity of the heterotopia.

To draw once again on an important point that was raised earlier, it is clear that whenit comes to the mundane aspects of their heterotopia what ‘the Boyz’ are demonstratingis their ability to perform an exclusive disjunction. This means odours that are notnormally sought after in everyday life can become emblematic of an inimitablecollective heterotopia that has been built around a particular form of leisure (Husserl1973). In other words, because smells can be overpoweringly nostalgic and homelythey seem to elicit intense emotions and representations that remain largely unedited oraltered (Ackerman 1995). As Edwin Morris points out, while the things you hear andobserve may be prone to disappearing in the compost heap that we refer to as our short-term memory, ‘there is almost no short-term memory with odours’ (1984: 44). In viewof this, it is the incredible homeliness of mundanity, especially the smell of thatmundanity, that is part and parcel of ‘the Boyz’ heterotopic social space that assuresus we are back together (Blackshaw 2017a). It can be argued, therefore, that certainodours stimulate our imaginations and work to intensify our warm sense of unity(Morris 1984). For example, the typical mundane scent of the abandoned farmhouseteased us, more so as it amalgamated with the all-too-familiar odours of our beer,smoke, food and our well-used belongings, effectively isolating us, but also reinforcingour proverbial memory of freedom, escape and the knowledge that we are able toshapeshift into a seemingly secure performative identity that has no place anywhereelse (Foucault 1984; Blackshaw 2017a).

4.2 The Spectacular

In addition to the mundane aspects of heterotopia, there are, according to Blackshaw(2003), sporadic instances where leisure worlds can become spectacular; it might wellbe argued that this is the point at which the performativity of ‘the Boyz’ becomes mostpowerful and compelling. In other words, as Blackshaw explicates, the spectacular iswhat creates an intensity that is even more superior (far more so than the mundane)when it comes to our sense of belonging (ibid). What this means vis-à-vis the senses isthat there may be some smells that have a more profound magical charm, and that theyare capable of resurrecting past memories and ontological feelings that elicit greaternostalgic power. As Corbin argues, ‘like voyeurism, some olfactory behaviour patternspermit a new conduct of the rhythms of desire’ (1986: 207). To put it concisely, suchsmells are intoxicatingly nostalgic.

As the reader witnessed in the opening episode, when the ‘Boyz’ started to cross theputrid moat, the rich odours of staleness and of sweet decay coalesced with our growingfear and excitement. Paddling with one paddle and getting caught in thick overhangingbranches severely affected the stability of the boat, causing foul water to spill over the

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sides and onto our clothes. We were terrified of capsizing, of being forced to swim inthe filth, but unbelievably energised by the chaos of the situation and the incredibleprovocation of our nostrils. Soul’s cries of elation and terror at the time work well toexpound on the moment in a little more detail, when none of us were quite sure whetherto laugh or panic every time the boat rocked violently:

‘Waaaa… Oooaaahhh… Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Stop fucking leanin’. Guys, Jesus.Fuck, fuck, we’re gonna fall in that shit…. [There is a tone of panic in his voice,but he begins to laugh hysterically. This sets off the others]. Jesus Christ, man,what the fuck are we doing?’… [Laughing uncontrollably]. It stinks and I can’teven swim. [More intense laughter]… Woah! Stop! You’re fucking splashing us,man… It reeks. Fuck! I bet we smell of this shit now.’

The penetrating odours of the spectacular moment in our heterotopia did not end on themoat either, they continued inside the castle. In this moment, actually within the wallsof the stronghold, all the rules and smells of the everyday were pushed aside to allowthe promiscuity and entrancing feelings of the spectacular to take over completely. Itwas there, fully embracing the odour of the castle, that signified the epitome of ‘theBoyz’ heterotopia where our performativity – being ‘deviant’, dirty, urban explorers –was, in one word, supreme.

To draw once again on Simmel’s (2014 [1890]) point about hyperaesthesia thatwas introduced earlier in this article, what is being demonstrated is that ‘the Boyz’are exercising their craving for an excessive stimulation of their olfactory sensesas they try to ignite what might be described as a sublime moment (Lyotard 2006).As Lyotard would argue, it is the erratic, ephemeral, pace of the unrepresentablethat ‘the Boyz’ seek. It can be suggested, therefore, that the smells of abandon-ment and decay, together with the tangible experience of exploring itself, workwell to satisfy this craving because they are so unmasterably complex andinexpressible. The sublime is, after all, something that tempts us because it bearsits foundations in any situation capable of stirring, simultaneously, the extremes ofpleasure and pain (or fear). For this reason, it is something many of us have araging thirst for (Burke 2008 [1729]; Lyotard 2006). This is the beauty ofheterotopic social spaces – on top of inflaming our other senses they allow us tosmell something so exciting and disturbing it provokes violent emotions thatcannot be found elsewhere (Lyotard 2006). It is this deep sense of pleasure anddispleasure that makes us fiercely nostalgic and desire strange odours all overagain, to the extent that we are willing to hunt for them in those foul, foetid,places most people want to avoid.

Notwithstanding the importance of the points raised so far in this section, thereis yet another aspect of smell and nostalgia that has up until now remainedunexplored. What follows, then, is a brief consideration of Bauman’s (1991)argument that present modernity has evolved into a ‘never-drying’ age of anxiety,irrationality, undecidability and confusion. What this means is that in their attemptto preserve a sense of existential certainty and ontological security, ‘the Boyz’inevitably find themselves forced to create a performative world that cannot helpbut encompass certain undesirable elements which could be referred to as themelancholic side of heterotopia.

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4.3 The Melancholic

After experiencing ‘the Boyz’ heterotopic social space first-hand, I would argue that aFreudian perspective could be adopted to draw out the point that Eros (the pleasureinstinct) and Thanatos (the death instinct) are in a constant struggle against one another.As Freud (2008 [1963]) argues, the latter naturally seeks to destroy the former and thisis perhaps achieved when the intensity of foul and the foetid becomes too intense,insofar as the mundane smells of the heterotopia rapidly break down and start todestroy themselves. To put it another way, it can be argued that any leisure-basedgroup or collective, especially when smells are exploited or involved as they are inurban exploration, can lead to the production of a leisure world where desires reachtheir absolute limit, or perhaps fall significantly short of the mark, and cannot beexceeded (ibid). When this happens melancholia takes over which, according to Freud,is governed ‘silently’ and ‘elusively’ by the Nirvana Principle (a forceful yearning for astate of oblivion). This so-called compulsion perhaps signals that the permanent end tothe heterotopia is in sight and it brings with it a peculiar, almost inexplicable, urge tosuddenly tear it apart and extinguish it for good (ibid).

To elaborate further, by the end of our trip the heterotopia appeared to bewavering. Sat in the car just south of London, dwelling miserably on the over-whelming stench of our own sweat and grotty filth, it was obvious that the moodhad transformed. ‘The Boyz’, but most especially Husky, seemed eager to gethome; the smell and constant feel of being dirty was ‘doin’ [their] ‘eads in.’ Toreiterate a point made earlier, as MKD put it, ‘stinkin’ of fuckin’ shit really putsme off cummin’ on these trips. Pisses me right off, man…’. In other words, wewere struggling to contain our annoyance and frustration. Mayhem also summedup how we were all feeling and, on this occasion, was the one to repeat somethingmany of us have said in the past: ‘This is the last time I’m doin’ this. I think I’mdone with this fuckin’ shit. My car stinks! It’s gonna smell like this for days now.It always makes me feel sick afterwards, like whenever I get inside ‘ere.’

Nonetheless, what has been overlooked is the notion that in the dialectical interplaybetween the life instincts Eros and Thanatos, the urge to reproduce and recreate tends torematerialise, insofar as Eros ‘somehow binds Thanatos to its own ends’ (Cutrofello2005: 129). What this means is that we can look more positively, and indeed optimis-tically, at the melancholic aspect of ‘the Boyz’ heterotopia because it is also, asBlackshaw (2013) suggests, that feeling we get when we want to protect ourselvesagainst the loss of something important.

As Freud’s (1995 [1917]) theory of melancholy portends, to preserve a sense ofexistential certainty and ontological security individuals who enter the melancholicaspect of their heterotopic social space can attempt to exploit the feeling of loss into theeventual reconstruction of their heterotopic social space.5 In other words, it can beargued that in due course, whether it is a few hours, days or weeks after the heterotopiacame crashing to an abrupt end, ‘the Boyz’ mourn the loss of the familiar smells

5 It is important to make the point that each time heterotopic social space materialises it is still its own uniqueevent, a fantasy that is nothing more and nothing less than the performativity that injects life into it (seeBlackshaw 2017a, b). In other words, the reconstruction of the heterotopia - and its mundanity, spectacularityand melancholia - is never quite the same each time but it feels just-as-good-as the last time, and just-as-good-as the time before that.

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associated with their special world; in their collective memory those smells becomestrangely nostalgic and are transformed into something that feels warm and homely –two things that are becoming ever more difficult to locate in present modernity(Blackshaw 2017a). In the end, the melancholic aspect of their heterotopia makes‘the Boyz’ realise that beyond the unsatisfactoriness of the everyday world they havea sense of place that, along with everything else, brings with it its own fantasticalodours that are unlike anything they experience in any other area of their lives. There is,however, a certain impossibility when it comes to satisfying melancholy; whatever isreconstructed cannot last because it is only ever temporary. What this means, therefore,is that the melancholic aspect of heterotopia may find itself being repeated time andtime again (Freud 1995 [1917]).

As ‘the Boyz’ reveal, then, together their central aim is to rekindle a heterotopicsocial space built around the all-too-familiar sights, physical sensations, sounds,tastes and, above all, the smells of their performativity and impression of urbanexploration that produce something far superior to anything likely to be found inthe everyday. Yet, to reign back in exclusively on odour once more, what thismeans is that while living for the moment brings with it smells that stimulateincredible feelings of homeliness and ecstasy, it also brings along smells thatreminds us of its contingency and indeterminateness. It can be argued, therefore,that unpacking the foul and the fragrant aspects (the poetics of putrefaction) of aparticular heterotopic social space reveals more about the transient and randomacts of social memory which is, at the base of things, an active process rather thana passive one that exploits mundanity, spectacularity and melancholia.

5 Summary

What the forgoing discussion has suggested is that olfaction is something that isgenerally overlooked when it comes to leisure studies, especially when dealing withforms of ‘deviant’, ‘abnormal’ or, as it has been referred to it in this paper, ‘heterotopic’leisure such as urban exploration. It might be described, therefore, as the rejected andexcluded sense, and in the eyes of many observers represents the residual side ofprogress. However, as I have argued, when it comes to understanding and indeedforming interpretations about certain forms of leisure the sense of smell is valuablebecause it exposes some of the key features of present modernity.

Using the seminal work of Alain Corbin (1986) as a starting point, this paperbegan by unpacking the odours which can be attributed to, and in some casesproduced by, a group of urban explorers who are known collectively as WildBoyz.The aim in the first half of the paper was to identify how olfactory sensationscontinue to influence behaviours, habits and social perceptions in the same waythey always have throughout modernity. What has been revealed is that smells,namely those that are identified as being foul and foetid, have always had africtious relationship with modernity and that, in many ways, little has changed.Such smells have for a very long time had a close affinity with the history of fear,disgust, poverty and the powerful compulsion to purify and disinfect.

However, beyond the anxiety, repugnance and general intolerance miasma cancause, for people like ‘the Boyz’ there is a second level to the olfactory system, one

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that operates on the other side of modernity through leisure and a certain poetics ofputrefaction. In other words, as prolific thinkers such as Zygmunt Bauman and TonyBlackshaw remind us, modernity has reached a stage in its evolution where people havenever before experienced such freedom to be performative as it has become a breedingground for heterotopias of deviation. Given that heterotopias are only temporary,though, and encompass certain people and things so dissimilar to what we find in theeveryday world, like the smells of rot, decay and sweat mingled with cheap beer andweed, they provide a stage for inciting the inexplicably magical and equally painfulfeelings of nostalgia as recurrences of such leisure experiences are craved for.

The final section of this paper went on to unpack the nostalgic significance of smellvis-à-vis ‘the Boyz’ heterotopic social space. It was suggested that certain smellsstimulate emotions and memories to recreate a temporary compensatory space thatfeels both magically homely and exciting. Following Blackshaw’s (2003) concept ofthe of the mundane and spectacular and my own appendage of the melancholic, it wasargued that there are certain odours that are part and parcel of the ‘great truths’ of ‘theBoyz’ heterotopic world, others that provoke feelings and memories that are trulymagnificent, and some that threaten to fracture and destroy (but not quite) the wholeperformative world and the imagination behind it. In a nutshell, what this tells us is thatindividuals can use certain forms of leisure to smell their way to freedom. To elaborate,if we thought there were infinite sources of self-expression and eccentricity withinreach thanks to our so-called ‘higher’ senses, what we have learned by looking at ‘theBoyz’ is that the olfactory system supplies us with even more ways of interpretingleisure that are different, inventive and as Foucault might have put it himself, bad andalmost certainly a little bit mad.

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